


Open and Close

by Ayantiel



Series: The Chronicles of Tyrvar Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: All kinds of sex really, Antivan Language, BDSM, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociation, M/M, Mental Health Issues, depersonalisation, it's become a coping mechanism at this point, they have so much sex and I'm too ace for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayantiel/pseuds/Ayantiel
Summary: It was already hard enough to stay true to himself when put at the centre of a religion he doesn't believe in. But when the Envy demon leaves its mark on Tyrvar's mind, it becomes close to impossible to stay rooted in the present. Luckily he meets the Iron Bull, who has an idea or two to help Tyrvar stay connected to himself.





	1. Prologue

  

 

* * *

 

When the Iron Bull met new people, he instinctively catalogued a couple of details. There were the general things that other people also noticed, like hair colour, the eyes, what race they were. If they spoke, an accent could tell you where a person was from. But Bull also took note of things that other people probably didn’t.

When he first met Tyrvar Lavellan, initially he was preoccupied with kicking Tevinter ass. His Ben-Hassrath contacts had given him intel on a group of Tevinter mercenaries landing on the Storm Coast in Ferelden. He’d sent Krem ahead to Haven to invite the Inquisition to watch the Bull’s Chargers work. Kill some ‘Vints and get hired in the process, that was the plan. Two birds, one stone.

That’s how he learned that Lavellan did not like sitting idle. Instead of leaving it all to the Chargers, the elf had watched for only a short while before presumably growing bored and drawing his bow. He was a good shot, able to take out moving targets in the chaos of multi-bodied brawl without ever hitting friend instead of foe.

Once the fighting was over though, the Iron Bull could finally take a good look at the supposed Herald of Andraste. Lavellan had long auburn red hair — nice, Bull always liked redheads — with the side of his head partially shorn. His dark skin was marked by the same facial tattoo design that Dalish wore, except Lavellan wore his in a soft pale yellow instead of Dalish’ bright green. He also had a scar on the left side of his face, starting just above his eyebrow and spanning down to his cheek. Looked like an older one. The discolouration of it compared to another small scar on Lavellan’s chin was far more faded.

Lavellan had the slim build common of elves, but like most elves he was probably stronger than he looked. Had to be if he wanted to be able to pull that longbow of his into a full draw. Probably had quick reflexes too. Feinting wouldn’t work on him, he’d adapt too quickly. No, if Bull ever needed to take him out, he’d have to rush him from up close; overwhelm him before he had a chance to react, and crush his windpipe. Or smash his skull against a wall or the ground a couple times. Whatever worked, as long as it was quick.

And that would be the part where Bull’s first impressions differed from most people’s. Came with the Ben-Hassrath training, Bull supposed. I mean, he also noticed that Lavellan was bright-eyed and was quick to smile. He noticed how Lavellan seemed slightly uncomfortable around Krem, though he tried to hide it — Bull didn’t yet know the reason behind that, but that was something he’d look into later. He also noticed that the elf didn’t mind being the centre of attention, revelled in it in fact, as long as it was on his own terms.You know, little markers of personality that people picked up on when they met someone. It just so happened that Bull also picked up the best way to kill a person within minutes of meeting them.

 

* * *

 

Ever since he was a child, Tyrvar had been the adventurous sort. When something sparked his curiosity, he could never resist poking it with the proverbial stick. Even, or maybe especially, when there was a risk involved.

The Keeper had scolded him for being reckless more than once. His father had lectured him on patience and warned that ‘curiosity killed the cat.’ His mentor had thought she could knock some sense into him by allowing his curiosity to drive him into danger, in the hopes that said danger would scare him enough that he’d heed her warnings next time he went hunting.

But they all forgot the second part to the familiar expression; curiosity might have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. And that was how Tyrvar nearly got mauled by a bear at age twelve. And consequently how bears became his favourite animal.

So when he met the Iron Bull and saw the man fighting with deadly efficiency, instead of being intimidated, the first thing that went through his mind was something along the lines of ‘those horns are just begging for someone to grasp a hold of them.’ Which prompted a rather vivid mental image that made his thoughts spiral down toward gutter territory. He never did claim his natural response to dangerous things was healthy.

And the Iron Bull was definitely dangerous. Ben-Hassrath. A Qunari spy who readily admitted to being one. Just because he figured they’d find out sometime anyway. What did you do with an honest spy?

Outwardly, the Iron Bull presented himself as a mellow guy; an easy going man who liked to drink and laugh with his men. His imposing bulk should be intimidating, if only for the many scars that marked him as a battle hardened warrior. But somehow, even when Iron Bull was right in front of him and towering over him, Tyrvar never felt an ounce of trepidation. And that wasn’t just because Tyrvar’s idea of common sense wasn’t as common as he’d like to think.

But of course, that’s exactly what made the Iron Bull so dangerous. He had made a strong case for himself too. The Qun was worried about the Breach, so if the Inquisition would just take him on, allow him to send a few reports home, then they wouldn’t feel the need to launch an invasion of the South to sort their mess out for them.

Tyrvar had very nearly laughed at that. _¡Maldita sea_ , but the man was good! He had to give him that. Not only did he make himself seem worth the risk, but he’d attached a risk to not hiring him as well. Hire him, and the Inquisition gets access to Ben-Hassrath reports on Tevinter activity. Don’t hire him, and risk an invasion by Qunari forces.

It only added to his intrigue. So of course, the Chargers got hired. At least Iron Bull had made it easier for Tyrvar to sell the idea to Cassandra and the other advisors of the Inquisition. He’d never been able to resist a good mystery after all.


	2. The Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war table discusses the Iron Bull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I am struggling with a scene that was supposed to follow directly after what is in this chapter and was supposed to be part of this chapter. But I can't seem to get it to flow nicely and I ended up rewriting it completely before ultimately scrapping it, so now I have to rework the next chapter a bit to make up for it. But I wanted to at least update.
> 
> Also, for future reference; when someone speaks a language beside English (or Trade as it would be known in Thedas), it will be written in italics. I'm a bit too lazy to add footnotes with translations for every single word if it's already discernable from context what the meaning could be (plus there is google translate for Antivan (i.e. Spanish)), but for longer phrases I will provide a translation at the end of each chapter for which it is relevant.

  
_Maybe there is more of the magical_  
_in the idea of a door than in the door_  
_itself. It’s always a matter of going_  
_through into something else._  


“Doors opening, closing on us”  
\- Marge Piercy, 1936

  
Walking through the streets of Haven was always slightly unnerving, Tyrvar thought. Whilst most people were far too busy with their respective tasks — be it delivering messages or fetching materials for the quartermaster — to take much notice of him, there was always at least one person who stared. If he was unlucky there were two or more, because that meant whispers, and somehow shemlen had not yet grasped the concept of elvhen hearing. No matter how discreet they thought they were, Tyrvar could always hear them just as well as when they’d spoken aloud.

“It’s the Herald of Andraste! They say the Lady herself carried him out of the Fade!”

“A knife ear? Are you sure?”

“How else could he have survived that explosion? Andraste has to be watching over him. Over all of us!”

“But didn’t they suspect him of being responsible for the blast in the first place?”

“He saved us from the Breach! The Maker sent him to us in our hour of need and blessed him with a gift!”

Tyrvar couldn’t help the scoff that escaped his lips. What a gift indeed. He ran his fingers along the inside of his palm, tracing the edges of the anchor. The mark tingled faintly at the touch, something akin to pins and needles, but not quite.

At least it no longer hurt. When the Breach was still growing the mark had burned like a hot iron carving not just into his flesh but into his very core. Thankfully that had faded after their attempt at closing the Breach. Now it only truly hurt when he used it to close a rift, or when he pressed his fingers against it when he lay awake at night, marvelling at how he could feel it everywhere in his body, not just his hand.

“So why send a knife ear then?”

“Don’t call him that!”

Honestly, he’d prefer knife ear over ‘Herald’ but Tyrvar figured saying that aloud wouldn’t go over well. And Josephine would give him this look of ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ that rivalled his Keeper’s. He really hated that look. Maybe it was because Josie was Antivan and reminded him of his clan.

He left the gossiping shemlen behind him and made his way to Haven’s chantry. The temperature inside was only marginally warmer than outside, but with the lecture that was waiting for him in the war room in the back of the chantry, Tyrvar was sure he’d feel the heat in no time. When the runner had informed him of the upcoming meeting, she’d given him a look that was halfway between sympathy and ‘what in the void did you do?’ which didn’t bode well for what awaited him.

But there was no use delaying the inevitable, so he didn’t hesitate before opening the door to the makeshift war room. He was immediately greeted by the musty scent of old parchment mixed with the smell of freshly lit torches, the flammable oil’s tangy scent still lingering in the air. Cullen and Josephine were already there, but Cassandra and Leliana had yet to arrive. 

“How badly does Cassandra want to kill me and should I keep the war table strategically between us during the meeting?” he asked once they’d greeted each other. Cullen snorted.

“I think you’ll be fine, don’t worry,” the Commander said, “I think she bashed out the worst of her frustrations when she was training with Adaar earlier. It was quite the sight, she knocked him down more than once.”

Tyrvar laughed. “He must have loved that!”

“I think he did, actually. He seemed a bit starry eyed if I’m honest. He kept complimenting her too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cassandra so flustered.”

“Really?” Tyrvar asked with amused intrigue. “Well if it saves me from her wrath, remind me to thank Adaar later.”

Cullen chuckled. “Will do,” he said just as the door to the room opened once again to reveal the Seeker herself, quickly followed by Leliana. Cassandra’s cheeks were still flushed from either the exercise or the cold, or both, and her eyes were bright. It was a good look on her.

“Seeker, Leliana,” Tyrvar greeted.

Cassandra narrowed his eyes at him, glancing from him to Cullen and Josephine and then back.

“Herald…” she said slowly. “Why are you all smiling like that?”

“No reason, my lady,” Josephine cut in before Tyrvar could answer with a teasing remark. She gave Tyrvar a stern look and Tyrvar guiltily hid his grin behind his hand with a discreet cough.

“We have a lot to discuss. Now that we’re all here, shall we get started?”

Josephine had brought out a huge collection of documents and letters, and the first hour of the meeting was dedicated to dealing with a number of political issues that required their attention. Apparently there was some trouble with forming relations with Orlesian nobles where one noble was angry that the Inquisition had approached some lord that had slighter her once. A ridiculous feud over a faux pas that had been committed years ago at the slighted party’s soiree.

The whole matter was beyond ridiculous, but Josephine was strict in them all taking it seriously. More than once she’d levelled Tyrvar with that patented look of disappointed that made him wonder if he should send word back to his clan to ask them to send some Antivan delicacies to win back Josie’s favour.

Luckily he wasn’t the only one subjected to those looks. Cullen made no secret of his disdain for nobility and how they prioritised petty feuds over dealing with the Breach. At some point Tyrvar and he had started a silent game where they would subtly make faces at each other when Josephine relayed yet another ridiculous demand of an infuriated noble. It made the meetings a little more bearable and had the added bonus of making Cullen a little more patient towards Josephine’s plight.

“Alright, then we agree to politely decline Lord Beamont de la Roche’s invitation?”

“Yes fine,” Cullen said a little too quickly to hide his eagerness to be done with the matter.

“Apologies,” he added when Josie raised a delicate eyebrow at him.

“Perhaps we should take a break soon. We could all use a break and enjoy some lunch, no?” Leliana said diplomatically.

“Oh goodness, is it that late already? Alright, then just one more small matter and then we shall reconvene for a brief recess.”

Cullen did a very poor job at suppressing a groan and Cassandra elbowed him in the ribs.

“This should only take a moment, Commander,” Josephine said coolly. “It’s the matter of the Iron Bull’s status as a Qunari spy.”

“Oh,” Cullen said, perking up a bit. “Yes, I was wondering about that. Are we certain he is not a risk to the Inquisition?”

Tyrvar shrugged. “There is always a risk, but I think it is worth it. The Bull’s Chargers are an excellent company, and the Iron Bull himself looked to be a more than capable warrior. He’d be an asset. Plus, your Orlesian contacts did confirm their good references, right Josephine?”

“That they did, your worship,” Josephine admitted, “but while they may come well recommended across the entirety of Orlais and Nevarra, their value to the Inquisition is not what is in question.”

“Yes, what did possess you to hire a Qunari spy, Lavellan?” Cassandra demanded. “You should have returned and discussed the matter with us first!”

Tyrvar crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “And what was I supposed to tell the Chargers? ‘Oh please wait here a week so I can consult with my colleagues on whether or not we’ll hire you. Thanks!’”

He shook his head with a laugh. He couldn’t help but be disappointed. By now he’d hoped he had proven himself enough to Cassandra, and the Inquisition in general. He had thought that being sent on this assignment without Cassandra to watch his every move was a show of faith, but it appeared that to the Seeker it had just been a test to see if he was worthy of that faith.

“You sent me to assess their usefulness, and I did. You sent me to make a decision on behalf of the Inquisition, and I did. It is clear that the Qun is interested in what goes on here in the South with the Breach. And if they are interested, they will send spies regardless. By hiring the Iron Bull we will at least get some information in return.”

He didn’t mean to sound too defensive, but some of his agitation must have seeped through regardless. The war room fell silent and he could feel the others staring at him, but he stubbornly refused to look away from Cassandra.

“I… You are right. I apologise,” Cassandra said and Tyrvar only just managed to keep his mouth from dropping open in surprise. He really would need to thank Adaar later.

“But that does not mean I am comfortable with the situation,” the Seeker added quickly.

“If it’s any consolation, I did make it clear that all his reports to the Ben-Hassrath are to be reviewed by our Spymaster and her people first on pain of you eating him alive,” Tyrvar said cheerfully and he spied the corners of Cassandra’s lips tugging upwards as if unbidden. “Naturally this doesn’t completely negate all risk, but it’s something at least.”

“But how would it look like to our allies?” Josephine cut in. “They already think the Herald is a heretic” — “I am,” Tyrvar pointed out, but was wilfully ignored — “and if they learn we knowingly have a Qunari spy in our employ the political ramifications could be disastrous!”

When Tyrvar opened his mouth to object further, Josephine stopped him with a gesture.

“They will not care that you are Dalish, your worship. There are many elven Qunari converts after all. And sadly, most people will not make a distinction.”

“… _Vale_ ” Tyrvar conceded.

“Relax, Josie,” said Leliana, “there is one bright side to the Iron Bull being a spy. It will not be common knowledge that he is a Qunari agent, and he will most likely be assumed to be either Vashoth or Tal-Vashoth. If our allies even care to make the distinction.” 

Leliana smiled sweetly and if Josephine had had Tyrvar’s level of maturity she might have stuck out her tongue at her friend in response. Instead she merely raised a delicate eyebrow and let Leliana continue.

“The Iron Bull’s previous employers were not all suspected of being in league with the Qunari, were they?”

“Perhaps not…”

“I’d still be more at ease if we kept a close eye on him,” Cullen spoke up. “Perhaps Adaar and his men can be of help?”

They all stared at Cullen who looked supremely uncomfortable by the sudden focus of attention on him. Bhatair Adaar was now the default leader of the Valo-Kas, or what was left of them. After losing the majority of their company and their original leader to the explosion at the Conclave they were hardly a full company anymore. Adaar and three out of the five other survivors were Vashoth, people born outside the Qun and they generally did not have a very friendly attitude towards the Qun. And Adaar was even Andrastian. Tyrvar had found him praying alongside mother Giselle one time when he’d entered the chantry for a meeting. Needless to say, from what Tyrvar knew, Adaar was not overly fond of the Qun.

“You want to have the Vashoth to try and make friends with the Qunari agent?” Tyrvar asked incredulously.

“If we are to make the distinction,” Leliana quipped and Tyrvar bit his lip to keep from laughing.

Cullen shrugged helplessly and scratched the back of his head in a nervous habit. “I don’t know, what other options do we have?”

“This whole thing was the Herald’s decision,” Cassandra said, “perhaps the Herald should be assigned to keep an eye on the Qunari.”

She shot him a look as if to dare him to argue with her, but Tyrvar just shrugged.

“Sure. I don’t mind spending more time with him. He seems interesting.”

From across the room Cullen smirked at him, but Tyrvar did his best to ignore him lest he lose what respect he’d won with Cassandra by sticking his tongue out at the Commander.

“Well that’s settled then,” Leliana said with a knowing smile, “the Herald will act as a go between of sorts between the Iron Bull and the rest of the Inquisition.”

Excellent, thought Tyrvar. Now he wouldn’t need to think of an excuse to hang around the Iron Bull. The man fascinated him, and he had admitted as much to Cullen on the night of his return from the Storm Coast when he’d dragged the Commander off to have a few drinks with him. Unfortunately said drinks meant that his phrasing had been more along the lines of ‘wouldn’t mind climbing that like a tree.’


End file.
